The Final Dreams of Angels
by Five Until Class
Summary: Everything was normal...before Romano was kidnapped. The worldwide search began. Yet the nation's disappearance affected Spain and North Italy in ways the others never suspected. Dark!characters. Spamano
1. Angel's Smile

**_The Final Dreams of Angels_**

AN: I needed immediate Spamano gratification. Thus this story came to be...should be working on final papers...five more minutes... I thought I should put this out now though. I'll check the interest in it after finals are over, then continue it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Warning: Rated M for some very poor language from Romano. Future M for torture and loads of angst...Consider yourself warned.

* * *

Chapter 1: Angel's Smile

Spain always had pleasant dreams. Even if he couldn't remember them, he still woke up with a feeling of happiness and contentment that no other country persona was capable of. On this particular Friday morning he woke feeling happy without knowing why. His dream had been nothing special, just a generic one where he was out running, enjoying the sunlight and having a picnic with a typically grumpy Romano. "Romano!" shouted Spain happily as he jumped out of the bed. Of course that was why he felt so happy. The personification of South Italy always came to visit on Friday-unless he had to stay late to work for his boss, which meant that Spain become very sad and drove over to Romano's home for the weekend instead. Spain covered a yawn and got out of the bed with a stretch. "I wonder if Romano is already here..."

The nation slowly walked over to his dresser and pulled on a plain white shirt that matched the boxer shorts he had slept in. He covered another wide yawn and trudged out of the room and down the stairs. Spain walked over to the front room and pulled aside the thick drapes. He blinked into the bright sunlight as a contented smile covered his face. A quick scan of the empty driveway showed that Romano hadn't arrived yet. The smile fell a little bit and Spain sighed and let the curtain fall back in place.

Should he call Romano? He usually arrived even before Spain woke up. In fact, on Fridays he was often the reason Spain woke up, since he would let himself in and drag the Spaniard out of bed to make him breakfast. A small pout covered Spain's face as he wandered into the kitchen to start some coffee. He liked mornings like that. It gave him an excuse to be extra clingy-since he was usually half asleep-and was one of the only times Romano would let him be. There was always an angry explanation of course, something about how it was easier to drag the taller man out of the room if he carried his own weight. It didn't make much sense to Spain but he wouldn't complain if Romano would let him sneak in a few hugs before breakfast.

Spain sighed and walked over to the table before collapsing into one of the chairs. He smothered another yawn and rested his head on the tabletop. It was so tiring to even stand up on a day off...especially if there wasn't a cute Italian to help. Spain sighed again and crossed his arms on the table and turned his head to the other side. Glaring red numbers stared at him sideways from the stove. The man squinted his eyes tiredly and tried to make them out.

7:30

"Aw..." whined Spain as he buried his face in his arms with another childish pout. "He probably won't be here another hour or so. Why did I get up...? Maybe I should just go back to bed." Yet he did not move. He was far too tired and lazy to bother getting up, even if his coffee was nearly ready. The man vaguely considered just sleeping on the table. It wasn't comfy but he was too sleepy to care. And how sleepy he was...

A sudden noise jerked Spain out of his light slumber. He looked up with bleary eyes and blinked at the clock. 8:22. "I guess I did get some sleep," the nation muttered tiredly as he leaned back and stretched. His chair lifted onto the back two legs as his arms stretched behind him. Both shoulders gave a loud 'pop'. Spain sighed happily as his arms fell limply back to his sides. He looked around the room, now fully awake, trying to remember why he had woken up at all. Another sudden sound from outside-the slamming of a car door-made him perk up and jump out of the seat. Within moments Spain rushed out of the room and ran through the front door. A giddy laugh bubbled up as he ran around the front of the building towards the driveway. A particular Italian dressed in a dark suit came into view and Spain ran faster as a wide grin spread over his face.

Romano barely had time to lock his fancy red car before he was barreled into by the ecstatic Spaniard. He let out a panicked shout and nearly fell down before Spain's arms wrapped around his waist tightly, holding him up. "B-bastard! What the hell are you doing?!" stuttered out the alarmed man as he tried to pull free. "Why are you even awake?"

"Lovi, I missed you!" Spain sang as he forced the smaller man closer. He buried his face in Romano's hair and breathed in the familiar scent of his shampoo, along with a hint of musk and saltwater. Romano must have taken the scenic route to get to Spain's house. A contented sigh left him as he nuzzled in closer despite the Italian's protests. Holding Romano, no matter how much he complained or made a show of trying to get away, was something that Spain knew they both enjoyed. Spain was pretty sure he enjoyed it a little bit more though, just because it was so rare and made a pleasant warm feeling blossom in his chest. "I got up early to meet you when you got here because I missed mi pequeño tomate so badly!" So what if he had just woken up for other reasons...Romano didn't really need to know that. "But I wouldn't miss you so much if you visited more."

"Stupid bastard...I visit every damn weekend! How much more do you think I can stay over?" grumbled the Italian as he elbowed Spain in the chest, who let go with a small protest. Romano stepped away and straightened up his dark gray suit. He took the opportunity to pull his suitcase out of the car and started walking towards the house.

The Spanish man trailed behind him, still talking. "You could just stay all week. Ah! You could move back in! Then I wouldn't miss you, and we could make dinner together every night and then stay up late and then sleep together and then in the mor-"

Romano slapped his free hand over the other man's mouth to silence him. A few more muffled words escaped him before Romano glared at him and Spain finally stopped trying to talk. An adorable blush had blossomed on the Italian's face but Spain didn't know why. "So help me God, _NO_. Sh-shut up before you say anything else stupid. I am not moving in. Now will you just let me go inside?!" Spain nodded and grabbed the smaller man's hand. He ignored the expected insults and dragged Romano towards the house. "I can walk on my own, stupid."

"I know! Otherwise I would be carrying you."

A strangled choking noise escaped the Italian as Spain happily pulled him into the house.

* * *

Twenty minutes later the pair had made their way to the living room and were watching television. The coffee Spain brewed earlier had turned cold, but a little doctoring up had made it acceptable to the Italian's palate. Two cups hadn't helped Spain stave off his sleepiness though. His eyes kept drifting closed as he tried to focus on the weather report for the next few days. It seemed like it would be warm enough for the picnic and beach trip he had planned for the next day, but the newscaster's voice was only an annoying, incomprehensible drone in his ears. Another nap looked very likely. Spain turned and looked at Romano, who was staring at the television with a bored expression as he drank his iced coffee. He wouldn't mind an early siesta, would he? Long drives were supposed to make people tired, so a nap was in order. The Italian's shoulder looked really comfy too...

Spain had almost drifted off to sleep again when Romano shoved the taller man's head off of his shoulder. "If you're so damn tired then just go to bed," he grumbled as he drank some of his iced coffee. The Spanish man just stared at him tiredly. He smothered a yawn and placed his head on Romano's shoulder again. The other nation glared and placed his coffee down on the table before saying, "Didn't I just say-"

"But I'm tired, Roma," Spain muttered against the other's neck. Before Romano could protest Spain had pushed his back down against the arm of the couch. The Iberian nation took his chance and laid down beside him, resting his head on South Italy's chest as his arms wound around his stomach to keep him locked in place. A daring yet tired smile played on his lips as he kept the other man from pulling away. "And you're a lot comfier than my bed."

"What does that mean, bastard? You think I'm fat and fluffy like your stupid, overstuffed pillows?" Romano pulled away and smacked Spain lightly on the head but was ignored and tugged back.

"Mi Lovi's much comfier than any pillow." Spain leaned up and kissed the underside of Romano's jaw before settling back on his chest, allowing his eyes to fall shut.

"You get a guest and all you want to do is sleep? I see how it is. You're just as lazy as usual."

An annoyed groan escaped Spain as he forced his eyes open again. He looked up and locked gazes with Romano. "I'm _tired_, Roma. All I want to do is cuddle and rest. Just for a few minutes, please? At least until the coffee kicks in. Then we can go make the pizza I promised you last week." It came out a bit more whiny than he intended, but the Spaniard was too sleepy to care. He closed his eyes a final time, determined to finally rest even if Romano continued to resist.

The pair of hesitant arms that wrapped around him brought a small smile to Spain's face before he fell back into sleep.

* * *

The small nap Spain had with Romano on the couch completely rejuvenated the tired nation. He was finally able to give the other man the attention he had deserved...only to find himself shoved off. Romano stomped away before he could stop him, making his way to the kitchen to start the pizza. With a sigh Spain followed. He knew that was all the affection he was going to get out of the grumpy nation for a while.

The Italian opened the fridge and started to push things around as he searched. "Hey, bastard! Where's the cheese?" asked Romano with a shout.

"What? I thought..." said Spain as he walked into the kitchen and went right up behind Romano. He looked over the shorter man's shoulder and scanned the contents of the fridge. Spain didn't notice South Italy's muttered curse as he pulled away. "Huh. I thought I bought some yesterday. I must have forgotten when I went off to get the sausage." Romano grumbled under his breath again and elbowed Spain in the stomach. "Roma! Why would you do that?" whined the Spanish man as he stepped back and covered his middle protectively.

Romano shot him a glare as he closed the fridge. He said, "You were too damn close. How could you forget the cheese?! We can't make pizza without cheese!"

"Ah, lo siento, Roma," Spain said apologetically. He rubbed his tender stomach as he took another step back. "I'll go buy some?"

The Italian muttered under his breath again and ran a hand through the side of his hair (careful to not touch the curl). He finally said, "No, I'll go buy some. My car's faster and you would get distracted looking at fish or talking to the cashier or something else just as stupid."

"I'm not that bad! Besides you're in my house. A good host would never allow their guest to do the grocery shopping."

"Shut up! A good host wouldn't have forgotten one of the most important ingredients if someone was coming over just to make pizza!" Romano said with a snort. He grabbed his car keys off the counter and walked towards the hallway. "Like I'm really a guest anyway. I come here practically every weekend," he finished softly to himself.

Spain pouted and followed Romano. Before the younger man could stop him Spain wrapped his arms tightly around Romano's waist and stopped his advance into the hall. "But I didn't forget the most important ingredient!" he complained.

"I know, bastard. I already saw the tomatoes in-"

"No, not the tomatoes. The most important ingredient is mi Lovinito!" chirped Spain as he pulled the other nation closer and nuzzled into his neck. Romano sputtered out incoherent protests as his face heated up. The Italian struggled against Spain's hold and the taller man merely laughed and hugged him tighter. His large arms were more than capable of keeping the squirming Romano locked in an embrace. "What would I do if the most important ingredient left?" Spain asked innocently as he rested his chin on Romano's shoulder. He resisted a squeal when he saw a bright red blush rise up over the Italian's tanned cheeks.

After trying to push the tight arms off Romano realized that he couldn't get free. He flushed deeper and finally stopped struggling, resting his hands on the other man's arms. Most likely waiting for Spain to relax his hold so the Italian could push his way free. "L-let go, bastard," Romano grumbled out, turning to glare at the grinning Spaniard's face.

Spain sighed dramatically and loosened his hold on the smaller nation. His hands fell to rest on the Italian's hips. "Make sure you hurry back," he muttered against Romano's neck, his nose pressed to the soft auburn hair. The Italian made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and pulled away. A whine escaped Spain as he moved his arms quickly to circle Romano's shoulders and pull him back. "It's like you just got here. I don't want you to go yet."

"If you hadn't slept the whole time..." Romano rolled his eyes as he slowly lifted his hands up. He grabbed onto the sides of Spain's shirt and tried to push him away, but did not put much effort into it. Spain tightened his hold and gently nuzzled into the shorter man's hair. A soft expression covered his face as he pressed a gentle kiss to the Italian's temple. Another deep blush covered Romano's cheeks as he mumbled, "I'll be right back."

"I miss you when you're gone."

"I know, bastard. You always tell me."

"But I mean it every time!"

"Shut up and let me go already. The sooner I leave the sooner I can get back."

"If I have to..."

"Yes, you do. Now. Get. Off." Romano finally pulled away from Spain. The taller man let his arms fall from the other nation's shoulders with a sigh.

Spain's pout was quickly replaced with a small smile. "Hurry back," he said, "I'll get the dough started." Romano nodded in response. He grabbed his keys off the counter and was out the door before Spain could try to stop him again. The older man walked over to the window and watched him jump into his bright red car. "Ah...you could have said goodbye," the Spaniard muttered with a chuckle. It didn't bother him. He knew how evasive Romano could get when he was embarrassed. The ferrari's engine revved outside in response before it took off down the country road and out of sight. "Well, no time to waste! Better start that pizza dough or Romano will be angry when he gets back." As cute as that would be, Spain would prefer a happy and well-fed Lovino to a starved one. So he walked back to the kitchen and pulled out the flour.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Spain's melodic voice filled the kitchen accompanied by the soft bubbling of tomato sauce on the stove. The song slowly fell to a gentle hum as Spain concentrated on kneading a large handful of dough. He did not notice the spattering of flour on his arms and clothes. No one who knew him would have expected him to notice much of anything

The bright notes of Spain's ringtone broke through the man's concentration. Spain grinned and tried to wipe his hands clean on his tan apron-he didn't succeed much-before he answered the phone. "Romano~! Did you find the cheese yet? The sauce is coming together nicely and I'm finishing-"

"Dammit, I don't care about the stupid pizza! I've got something a little more important than that!" snapped Romano. Spain could hear the man's annoyed tone but it only made his smile widen.

Spain teasingly asked, "What? Mi Romanito doesn't care about pizza? Who are you and what have you done with Romano?"

"This is no time for games! I'm being followed!"

"In the store? Well, you do have that habit of putting things in your pockets. Maybe if you tell the employees tha-"

"Maledizione! I'm not in the store anymore, bastardo! There are three black cars following me," shouted the angry Italian with a few added curses muttered under his breath. If Spain concentrated he could make out a few car horns and rumbling engines, but he wasn't concentrating on the background sounds.

A look of worry crossed Spain's face. "Are you sure they're following you?" he questioned. Romano affirmed it and Spain bit his lip. He pulled off the apron and tossed it towards the table, lunch forgotten. He quickly walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway. "Then hurry back, Lovi. Where are you? Have you seen anyone in the cars?"

"No, they've all got tinted windows. Ugly cars though. So slow. I could get away if only there wasn't so much traffic!"

"Lo siento, Lovi. I forgot it would be busy right now," muttered Spain as he pulled on a pair of shoes, "Where are you? I'll drive out there and-_what was that sound?!"_

"The bastard just tried to rear end me! I swear, if we weren't on this damn bridge-" A screech of metal-on-metal drowned out what Romano said next. Spain's heart sunk and he braced a hand on a nearby wall. His eyes widened in horror as a second, more distinctive sound broke through: a gunshot. "G-God damn, those fuckers don't give up..." grumbled Romano, causing a wave of relief to flood Spain for a moment. He quickly caught himself though. Romano might not have been shot right then, but he was still out there with three strange cars filled with people who were trying to shoot him. It was no time to relax.

"Roma, where are you?" pleaded Spain as he got into his own car and started the engine. A string of Italian expletives was his only answer. "Romano, listen to me! Tell me where you are!"

"Calle Segunda. Just past the bridge. Those bastards drive faster than I thought!"

"I'll be there. Get away from them as fast as you can! You still have a gun in the car, right?"

"Of course I do!"

"Good. Then keep them away until I get there," Spain said as calmly as he could manage. "Stay on the line with me. Are there still only three cars?"

"Yeah, just three of the fuckers are-dammit, Spain! I can't drive around them and hold a phone at the same time!"

"Don't hang up on me, Romano, please! I need-" A definitive click was followed by silence. Spain let out an uncharacteristic curse and threw his phone down in the passenger seat. He quickly pulled out of his driveway and sped off towards the city. The screech of tires pealing out drowned out his thoughts as he pushed harder on the gas. Romano was just a few minutes away if he drove fast enough. And he was a Mediterranean country: he drove fast, especially when someone as important as Romano was in danger. Yet the pain in his chest promised something far different...


	2. Angel's Worry

AN: I'm so glad people read this! Special thanks to _Book Thief101_ and the anonymous _Eatty_ for being my first reviewers! And also thanks to _ncalkins_, for making me laugh so damn hard.

I was going to update my other story, but it had a Spain/Veneziano scene...after typing that I needed to balance it out with some good ol' Spamano inspired angst so I didn't get diabetes.

* * *

Chapter 2: Angel's Worry

When Spain pulled up to the wrecked red Ferrari he knew that it was too late. He vaguely remembered parking in the middle of the street and running up through the small crowd. He had pushed his way through and nearly knocked over the police officer questioning a nearby shop owner. They might have said something to him but Spain didn't remember. All he was aware of were his own frantic thoughts and a rising sense of despair.

"I just...I couldn't...he was gone. The car was wrecked and he was gone," muttered Spain as he stared blankly at a gray tabletop. The events of that dreaded day kept playing in his mind, soundless, but he could feel his heart tighten every time he pictured that broken and empty car. Its owner had always taken such good care of it, but now... A gentle hand was placed on his shoulder but Spain took no comfort from the touch.

France looked up from his friend and locked eyes with England across the table. The island nation stared back, tapping a pen against his small notebook. The pair had volunteered to spearhead the effort to recover the missing Italy Romano since there had been no progress in the past three days. If France had his way then they would not be interrogating Spain until the distraught man had a full night of chemically-induced sleep (he doubted that Spain would willingly sleep while Romano was missing). But England, ever _thoughtful_, insisted on conducting the 'interview' as soon as they could pull the Iberian nation off of his desperate search of the streets.

England cleared his throat. "What do you remember, Spain? How bad was the damage to the car ?"

"It was...bashed in on the passenger side," Spain mumbled as calmly as he could. His eyes were glassy and his hands shook as he twisted them in his lap. "There were a-a few bullet holes in the remaining windows. I didn't see any blood. There wasn't a b-...a body." Spain choked on the last word and buried his face in his hands.

France sighed and knelt down by his friend. He grabbed Spain's wrists and with a few gentle words he pulled the tormented man's hands away from his face. "Espagne, please," he said softly as he placed his hands on his friend's cheeks, trying to make him look up away from the table, "You have to tell us. I know it is painful, but you must try to remember. Then we can help you find what happened to little Romano."

"They took him," said the Spaniard softly. His dark rimmed eyes flicked up to France's face before returning to the table. "What is there to find out? If Feli can't find him..."

"I'm sure little Feli will be able to sense him soon, you just have to give him time. Would you like to call and-"

England interrupted France with a grunt and leaned forward. He calmly placed his notebook on the table, filled with a few remarks that Spain had provided earlier. The man said, "North Italy is busy with his officials, trying to find out why his brother was targeted and if there were any people watching his house or office. I requested that they let us know immediately if they find anything of importance."

The Iberian nation's head snapped up. "Feli's not out there looking anymore?" asked Spain with disbelief.

"Non. Allemagne made him return home." Spain bristled at France's words. The blond nation placed his hand on his friend's shoulder again in an attempt to calm him. "Do not worry. He merely thought it would be more practical to inform Italy's leader of what exactly had happened and get the military to start searching. You know Germany will do whatever it takes to help our little Italy, so you can relax. He has a plan of his own to help recover little Romano."

"B-but then I should do that! I should tell my boss and try to get a massive search-"

"Enough, Spain," growled out England. His tone was harsh and his eyes pierced the tanned nation with displeasure. "We are here to help you reorganize your thoughts so we can try and find a clue and formulate our own plan to find Romano. You still want to find him, correct?"

"O-of course! Why wouldn't I-?"

"Then do us all a favor and shut up. You and Italy wasted time with your inefficient and rather pathetic searching. Do you really think the kidnappers would keep Romano in your country?" England held up a hand to stop France from interrupting. His eyes were steely as he stared down Spain on the other side of the table. "They-whoever they are-must have planned this kidnapping for a long time. They would have known that you would respond immediately. Therefore, they would have acted swiftly and moved him as far away as possible in the time they had. Searching the streets had been a waste. If you had used your head, then you would have contacted all the nations as soon as he went missing. We could have put every airport, every train station, every police force working near every border on alert. But instead we have lost three days when all we heard were rumors and panic. Do you understand? _We have lost three days_. People who are kidnapped and not found in the next 48 hours are likely to never be found because all the leads dry up. Now you better shut up and stop wasting my time. The more you waste, the more likely it becomes that you will never see Romano ever again." France sighed. What England said was true, but couldn't he have held back, for Spain's sanity's sake? Of course not, they still hated each other. The blond nation turned back to his friend and his breath caught in his throat.

Silent tears fell down Spain's shocked face. His mouth moved, soundless and slow, as if he were trying to speak. "Spain..." muttered France sympathetically as he leaned down. He placed his hands on Spain's shoulders again and squeezed them in what he hoped was a comforting manner. The tanned nation finally looked at him but his eyes were distant. France sighed and said, "It may be better if we put this off until after you get some sleep-"

"But that would be too late! We have to find him now!" Spain wailed as he finally found his voice. He clutched tightly at the front of France's shirt, then tried to stand. France struggled to keep the much stronger nation in his chair. "I have to find him! I promised that-"

"Mon Dieu! Will you sit and listen?! We're trying to help!"

"You aren't helping!" Spain roared in despair as he finally pushed France away. Tears fell constantly as his face twisted in despair. "Romano is out there somewhere and I have to go find him now!"

On the other side of the table, England stood. He glared at the distraught nation darkly and ordered him, "Sit down, Spain."

"No! I have to be out there! You don't understand, he needs me! I have to find him!"

"Sit now, Spain. Do you want to see Romano again or not?" France was surprised at the control of England's words. Gone was the accusation that the island nation had spoken with before. All that was left was a calm sort of finality that instantly took Spain's attention.

"O-of course I do! I need...I need to find him."

"Then sit down and tell us everything. These kidnappers must have left a clue. We just have to find it." To France's further surprise, Spain heeded England's words and sat down. His anger seeped away and left only sorrow in his expression. Two lone tears slid down his already soaked cheeks as Spain struggled to reel his emotions in.

France sighed and placed a hand on his friend's back. Seeing the normally cheerful nation so broken tore at his emotions. "Mon ami, you look awful. I will get you some coffee, but after this meeting you must promise me that you will try to sleep. Et vous?" France reasoned gently.

"I-I will. Gracias, Francia," muttered Spain as he looked up at his friend with tired eyes. The pain that shown through made France's heart burn. With tender hands he cupped his friend's cheeks and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his hair.

France gently whispered, "I will help you find Romano. I promise." Then he pulled away and left the room.

* * *

Spain struggled to control himself as France left the room. What England said had hurt him more than he thought possible. What if he had done something different after Romano had disappeared? Instead of panicking and calling North Italy, who also panicked and flew out to Madrid immediately, Spain could have called his much more rational friend France. Maybe he should have called England instead, no matter how much he hated the man. Or even Germany would have been a better choice considering how much more logical the blond nation was. He could have organized the search much better than him and Italy. If only Spain had thought to make the right calls before he wasted days tearing apart his own country looking for the missing man who had already been long gone.

If only Spain had not let Romano go to the store on his own. If only he had insisted on being a good host and had gone to the store without Romano. If only he hadn't forgotten to buy the cheese in the first place. _If only, if only, if only_...

From across the table England cleared his throat. When Spain looked at him the man leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. He stared down the other nation as he said, "I don't think talking about the accident will help us at all. Instead, I want to focus on why Italy Romano was taken. Do you have any theories?"

"None," answered Spain honestly as he looked off to the side. He couldn't bring himself to stare at the other man for too long, couldn't bear to look into someone else's accusing eyes. He saw that enough when he looked at himself in the mirror. "Nothing had been wrong with Lovino lately. No mafia problems for the past few years, no major political shifts...of course there were the economic issues, and new elections, but we've all felt that..."

"You are sure he didn't have any mafia problems?" Spain nodded. England gave an exasperated sigh and crossed off a few sentences on his notepad. "It seems that South Italy did not do much business outside of his own country. Did North Italy handle those?"

"Si, Feliciano did all the foreign work and Lovino did everything with domestic affairs." England nodded and wrote a few more notes. He studied his work and made a few tick marks beside certain sentences. Spain hesitated before he finally looked at the man and asked, "So...we hate each other. Why are you helping me?"

The blond nation bristled and stared at him with narrowed eyes. "A nation has been kidnapped. I am helping South Italy, not you. Now focus. We have a lot more to go over. Such as...why was South Italy at your house and who would have known?"

"What do you mean, 'why'?" asked Spain defensively. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms.

"What the bloody hell do you think I mean? I just need to know why he was there. Stop being so stubborn."

Spain studied England silently before he looked off to the side again. "Romano came over to my house every Friday. If he couldn't make it that weekend then I would go see him."

"When did you last go to his house instead?"

"I don't know, a month? A month and a half?"

"So this was part of his regular schedule...they probably weren't targeting you then."

"..._what? _They were targeting me?" Spain shouted in surprise.

"I said they weren't. It was only one possible theory. But if they were after you, then they would have done it when Romano wasn't there. That means they were focusing specifically on Romano, not just a random country... Considering how quickly they escaped, this was a well-thought out kidnapping. They would have been watching both of your houses. They would have known Romano's schedule as well as yours. What I want to know is why they decided to kidnap Romano here. Don't let it go to your head, but any normal human who tried to take Romano when you were around would just be asking for a death sentence. If they were watching you both then the kidnappers would have known that."

"Then why would they take him when he was visiting me?"

"It is most likely that they planned on taking Romano when he left your house. They probably just staked out your house to observe, then intended to run him off the road and take him when he left at the end of the weekend. You wouldn't set off an alarm because he wouldn't be expected home for several hours. By the time any of us noticed they would have gotten away with it and left us no clues...not like they haven't gotten away already, but I digress."

"But they didn't do that!"

"No. You said that Romano called you and told you about the cars tailing him. He noticed that he was being followed and the kidnappers realized they were compromised. At that point they probably had to act or lose their chance. They acted."

"Then...what? How does this help us find Romano?"

England sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. Spain hadn't noticed before but the other nation had dark circles around his eyes as well. Why would the other man lose sleep over Romano getting kidnapped? They never even talked! Well, sometimes England would try to talk to Romano, who would run away and hide behind Spain every time, afraid that he would be forced to eat those terrible hell-spawned scone things... Whenever that happened, his little Roma would drag him off and insist on having Spain make him some real food, like he used to when the nation had been just a child. Spain had been able to take care of him so much better back then...always saved him whenever France or Turkey tried to kidnap him...unlike now.

"SPAIN! Pay attention!" The Iberian nation jerked up out of his reverie.

"S-sorry, I...I think I need that coffee."

"That frog should have been back by now. He's probably been distracted by a receptionist or something. So, what part did I lose you at?"

"Um...all of it, I think." Spain had the decency to look embarrassed. England sighed and sent him a glare. He spun his notepad around and pushed it across the table to Spain. The taller man picked it up and scanned over the notes.

"First, we know that Romano had been followed for a while," explained England. Spain gave up trying to read and devoted his attention to the smaller nation. "Second, he was targeted by a group that probably wanted something from the Italian government, if not something from Italy Romano himself. It may even be an Italian group responsible for the kidnapping. That we can determine because Romano was targeted instead of his brother, who would have been known outside of the country. It appeared that Romano rarely traveled outside of his own country except to visit you."

"Roma knew other people though. Bella-"

"He hadn't visited Belgium in over five years. I know, I checked with her while France was trying to track you down. Also, the last World Meeting that Romano attended was seven years ago, in New York. Other than his visits with his brother Romano did not get out much. He seems to be an extreme introvert. That means that normal humans would rarely ever get a chance to see him, unless they were Romano's own citizens or yours'."

"My people would never-!"

"I know. I ruled out any Spanish groups because you would have been able to sense the presence of your own people when they watched your house, or if they were watching Romano's house on those rare trips you made to see him. On the other hand, Romano seldom ever left his own country. He might not be attuned to picking out his own citizens' presence because he was constantly around them."

"Okay...so we need to focus on searching Italy? But what reason would any of Romano's citizens have for kidnapping him?"

"That I do not-"

"Mon ami, I brought your coffee!"

"Don't interrupt me, frog!" England shouted out.

The Frenchman ignored him and placed a doctored coffee in front of Spain. He pulled up another chair to the gray table and rested his elbows on the surface, chin nestled on top of his laced fingers. "So, Espagne, drink up and then we shall think of a way to save little Romano from his own people. Angleterre here seems very sure about who is behind the kidnapping."

"I am not 'sure', you fool. It is just the most likely scenario," grumbled England as he fidgeted nervously with his collar. He grabbed his notepad back from Spain and jotted down a few more lines. "Even if we suspect it was a group of Italians, that doesn't guarantee they took him back to Italy. They could have taken him to your country for all I know. Or somewhere we would never think to check. Brazil, for example."

France clicked his tongue and turned a disapproving eye upon the island nation. He let out a dramatic sigh as he said, "It is still a good place to start. I am sure Italie will not mind. Now we just have to decide the method of search."

"Can't we just bring Feli along?" asked Spain as he sipped at the lukewarm coffee. It tasted like hazelnuts. "He can sense if his brother is nearby."

"That might be all we can do until we have more clues. Hopefully North Italy will be able to discover something in his country that will give us a face or a location. Until then all we can do is search and put law enforcement officials on alert."

"Angleterre, there is another way. Young Amérique is more than willing to put his information network to use, and if we know it is a group in Italy that kidnapped Romano then he can provide agents to infiltrate every group."

"We're perfectly capable of doing those things ourselves! We don't need to bring him or any of his CIA or FBI or NCIS or WPA or...whatever new thing he has into this!"

"But that would give much faster results, non?"

"Do you think Italy would want America to have free reign to place his agents wherever he wanted in the country?!"

"America is more than willing to!"

"And that is exactly why we won't let him help! He'll think he's saving the day and instead all he did was undermine our authority in our own countries!"

"You don't think he'd really do that to Italy, do you?"

"No, he wouldn't mean to, but America's way of helping only makes things worse in the end. We have organizations of our own that can do the same work anyway. We do not need him."

"Hm. It would hurt him to hear you say that, Angleterre."

Spain watched the two other nations bicker as he sipped more of his coffee. They had practically gotten off the important topic. No matter how much they planned here, Romano was still out there, and they had no idea who had taken him in the first place. If England was right and Romano had been kidnapped by Italians then they would have trouble finding him, especially if the people that took him were from Southern Italy. But why would any of Romano's own people kidnap him, when he was in Spain's country no less? It made no sense to the nation. Why would anyone want to kidnap him? It hadn't been that unusual for Turkey or France to try and kidnap Romano when he was a child, but this was different. The present was a different time, one where the nations tried to avoid war as much as possible. They all tried their best to work together. What would be the point to kidnapping half a nation, especially one that avoided human contact as much as Romano? Why had he been kidnapped and what were they doing with him now? Spain could only hope that a ransom note would show up soon. Maybe people had just seen Romano's fancy car and noticed his government job and thought they could kidnap him for money? Yet that was too simple, too unlikely. Three days had passed and there was no ransom note. They still knew nothing.

All Spain could do as he ignored the other two bickering nations was wonder where his Romano had been taken. He hoped they were taking care of the man, hoped they were feeding him and keeping him safe. Spain couldn't guarantee their safety otherwise...whoever they were. Yet he still had faith that they would find the culprits. He stared down into his half-empty cup of cold coffee as he whispered, "I will find you, Romano. I promise." He prayed it wouldn't take too long. Every moment Spain spent apart from his little Italian was torture.

Maybe after he slept they would have a new plan...

* * *

AN: Please review!


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